


Sparklers

by sandlaw



Category: Homestuck, Mobsterswitch - Fandom, Problem Sleuth (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, Stabdads AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:25:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8771776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sandlaw/pseuds/sandlaw
Summary: innovators an ok dad, but not a good one by a longshot





	

“There’s nothing more brilliant. Look. Look here.”

 

Pernicious Innovator grasps the sparklers tight between shaking bone fingers. The way he’s crouched on the back stone patio gives the vivid impression of a pale old frog, swaying in the faint early-fall breeze. Three lighters are scattered about, all of them cast open and scratched against the pale brick floor. Beside him is a glass dish, about eight inches wide and an inch high, filled with viscous liquid. Metal rods lean against the rim of the dish.

 

A seven year old Nepeta stands in the doorway, her short, pudgy fingers holding the screen door aside. She’s got four feet of distance between him and her, but her wide, watery eyes still glint in vivid fear. Innovator claws blindly for one of the discarded lighters, struggling to summon a small flame with the way his thumb hops mindlessly about before he can get a good spin in. Nepeta takes a step back. Innovator stops, and stares.

 

His teeth are damp and his voice shaky when he opens his mouth to the night air. 

 

“What c-color? Which color is your favorite, generally? It’s, g-green, isn’t it?”

 

Innovator beckons his daughter closer, lighter trapped against his palm with the length of his thumb. Her curiosity gets the best of her, as always, and she makes her way across the minefield of scattered objects so she can pull the lighter into her own small hands. 

 

Nepeta pulls the cap back enough so she can roll the little wheel enough to get a small flame going. Her movements are fluid, and before long, Innovator’s got a brilliant orange sparkler going, putting the safe end in Nepeta’s left hand. She stands, end pointed down, watching shadows dance across her father’s back as he suddenly turns to an array of dishes and starts poking dark powders.

 

“Where did I put the, the Barium. Barium burns green.” 

 

Innovator’s busy hands sift aside bowls filled with dark powders, none of them evidently all that different in appearance to another. Nepeta watches with rapt attention, sparkler still held at a wide radius from herself. Tiny, burning orange sparks, hopping across the air and burning out. They look like they could really hurt. She imagines claws pulling out of her knuckles, wolverine style, but sparkling brilliantly in midair. She presses the palm of her free hand against her mouth and suppresses a small giggle. 

 

PI’s finally finagled his new sparkler together, waiting for the heavy coating of dry powder to still. He motions for Nepeta to discard her current sparkler in the bowl of water off to the side, already full of other burnt sticks. She quickly drops hers in, jumping back as it briefly fizzles and smokes. Pernicious Innovator sees her brief smile and hurries to hand her the fresh sparkler.

 

“It’ll burn neon green,” he says quickly, excitedly, before his expression falls a bit. 

 

“Oh. I suppose I’ve ruined the surprise, haven’t I?” He wrings his hands a bit, looking around like an awkward, shamed rabbit, before another lighter catches his attention. He hurries to grab it with both arms outstretched, lanky limbs knocking together before long fingers curl harshly against the metal casing. His words fall into quiet sounds only audible to himself.

 

Nepeta knows not to answer when her father mutters to herself. It never really ends well. The questions are always rhetorical, and never for her; the few times she’s questioned him about it or strained to hear so she could answer properly back, he always looked at her funny. Like she was the one acting odd, acting surprisingly out of turn. She’s learned to let it go. Instead, she opts to hold her new sparkler out eagerly, her fear won over by a tidal wave of near excitement. It’s been a long time since she’s had so much fun at home. 

 

PI manages to get the lighter going, somehow. He shakily lights the end of the sparkler and Nepeta gasps as it lights up bright green. Not quite _her_ color, but still; she’s never seen green fire before, let alone a green _sparkler_. 

 

“It’s like magic!” Nepeta cautiously twirls in a circle, and when nothing seems to catch fire, she goes for it again, this time faster. The light follows in a streak, leaving behind a bold trail in the dark evening air. She stops and poses a bit, sparkler still held out wide and twirling a bit from horizontal.

 

“Um, but not really like magic magic, the stuff you and uncle Scofflaw do? It’s more like, um, fairytale magic? You know.” She does a little hop, flicking her left leg back into the air behind her and reaching out daintily with the sparkler, doing a few taps in the air. She gets an air about her, the kind she gets when she’s getting into character.

 

“Fair prince! I’m here to grant you many meowg-nificent wishes!” She does another little motion with her ‘wand’, and Innovator smiles warmly. He’s shifted into a more comfortable position, knees pulled up under his chin and his long arms wound around under his thighs. 

 

“I, is this a, a Cinderella reference? Am I C-- Am I Cinderella, in this case? And are you my, cat-kind fairy god-daughter?” 

 

Nepeta slouches, a bit put out. “Dad!! You’re ruining the scene with your meta-questions! Of course you’re Cinderella!” She gestures in the air again with the sparkler, gesturing around the back porch.

 

“I’ll turn that broken pot into a purrfect carriage… The cats can pull it! They’ll be so fast and, um, nimble!” She dances around the back porch, excited at all of her hypothetical plans.  
“And, with a quick flick of my wand” -- Her hand moves in an exaggerated arc -- “I will give you the most beautiful dress to go to the ball in!”  
Innovator blinks owlishly.

 

“....The ball.”

 

Nepeta nods quickly. 

 

“Of course! Where else could you purroperly charm the daring and well sought after Prince Detective?” Innovator chokes immediately, unable to meet his daughter’s confident gaze.

 

“Besides, it’s the only way me and Aradia can be the sisters we were always meant to be,” she continues, oblivious to the way Innovator takes a great amount of effort to compose himself.

 

“The, relationship I have with Aradia’s father is strictly professional,” he starts, attempting to maintain eye contact with his daughter and instead dropping down to stare at the sparkler in her hands instead. Nepeta gives a small shrug, free hand flying up into the air to emphasize how little she really cares about his say-so. When did she learn to be so flippant towards him? She continues painting a vague picture of the ball, his dress, and his apparently necessary brief Disney-scale romance with her best friend’s father. With Deadeye. He keeps his gaze locked on the green sparks leaping through the air. Think about something else. Nepeta rotates the sparkler in her hand, and a red flag flies in his mind. 

 

There’s a disturbingly large bump on one side, now almost directly under the flame burning ever closer to her small little hand. His reaction is briefly delayed, his limbs not used to sudden action, but in a rare moment Inspector is suddenly lunging across the patio towards his daughter, long arms reaching for the sparkler. 

 

Nepeta reels instinctually when her father suddenly moves with an intent and energy that she’s rarely seen before. The sparkler moves just out of his long reach, and not a moment later, the flame reaches the deformation and the powder bursts.

 

It’s a small explosion, but the popping sound is shocking. Nepeta drops the wand onto the brick patio, senses on the fritz. She can smell a bit of smoke, and feel heat on her skin. 

 

It takes her a second to look down at her arm before the pain washes in. Her sleeve is burning, and under it, smoldering cloth presses against her skin. 

 

Tears well up in her eyes, but she refuses to scream. It hurts badly; she can already tell her skin is swelling and blistering under her sleeve. She looks up, waiting for Innovator to do something to fix it, but instead he just stands there stock still and stares. 

 

He’s staring at her arm in shock. It hurts so much, and the sleeve is still burning, but he just stands there and stares. Pain ebbs to make way for pure distress. 

 

She doesn’t like being reminded. 

 

“Dad, the water bowl,” she croaks, voice thick with the struggle to keep from crying. Innovator blinks quickly out of his trance and scrambles for the water bowl, throwing out the discarded sparklers and quickly pouring its contents over her outstretched arm. The cool water is both a blessing and a curse, ending the burning sensation but bringing a fresh layer of pain as the downfall presses against raw skin. She lets out a choked sob then, and PI’s hands begin to shake.

 

Innovator leads her inside quickly, fishing out the first aid box and setting her up on the kitchen counter. Nepeta peels her sleeve back, wincing at the damage. She’s openly crying now, tears rolling down her cheeks and little sniffles filling the silence. It’s not bad, but it hurts a lot. But at least it’s not getting worse, because that means she’s allowed to be seven again.

 

She doesn’t like being reminded that she needs to be an adult when she’s at home. It’s a necessity, but she doesn’t like it. Doing anything fun or dangerous at home is always a gamble, because at the end of the day, she doesn’t know if she’ll be properly cared for if things go south. 

 

Innovator, at least, is good at treating wounds. You get good at treating burns when you dabble in pyrotechnics here and there. He’s muttering again, but it sounds vaguely apologetic this time. She glances at the screen door, now snapped shut. Nepeta wonders if she should have stayed inside after all.

 

PI lets her arm go, ointment cold under bandage wrappings. Her sleeve is permanently ruined, rolled up and singed. She sniffles again, staring at her arm. It still hurts a lot, but not nearly as much as before. She feels like a grizzled warrior with the bandages on, a hardboiled fighter in the wild. A wildcat that’s been dragged down a notch, and needs time to lick her wounds. The wildcat peers out of its den cautiously, two piercing eyes betraying nothing as she stares out into the forest thick with trees, wondering if it was worth it.

 

She remembers waving her wand, summoning large cats with the flick of her wrist and adorning her father in a shining, beautiful blue dress. She remembers how green sparks dove across the backyard patio, fizzling out before they made contact, whirring around the houseplants and the broken pots, shining until they grew into a sound carriage with little gold handles and vine harnesses, spokes of the wheel covered in no longer dying flowers. She wipes her eyes with her other sleeve. Innovator wrings his hands and rushes to bring back a box of tissues, hands still shaky. He gently wipes the snot from her nose and apologizes again, shushing her under his breath. She doesn’t force a smile, or tell him she’s ok and run off. She let’s herself live in that exact moment, characterless and cared for. She lets herself be seven.


End file.
